Intervention
by The Straight Elf
Summary: A supposedly dead Kael Mahariel returns to Ferelden just as the Mage-Templar War ignites, and in a fit of boredom he decides to put a stop to it.


A/N: This is a continuation of Kael Mahariel's adventures from my other Dragon Age story. I've had this sitting around for awhile, and I finally decided to post it. Hope you enjoy it, and remember to review.

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age.

It had been years since he had last set foot upon these shores. He had paid the passing of time no attention, not even bothering to count the days and months and years that he had been wandering Thedas. Time was meaningless to him aside from tracking his old associates.

He wasn't quite sure what had drawn him back to this rainy land, especially now that he could understand why nearly every outsider to Ferelden had complained of it smelling like wet dog. The awful boat ride had been draining too, and he was glad that he wasn't in his physical form for very long or he would have lost the contents of his stomach more than once.

Perhaps he was just looking for a change of pace, he thought to himself as he looked at the beach he had ventured out to. Getting out of Denerim was one of the most annoying experiences of his life. The Dalish had little patience for the constant traffic and the mazes of alleys that pervaded every large city, and had wanted to blast the commoners out of his way more times than he could count.

His better half – the one person that he had around at all times – kept his more aggressive tendencies in check and prevented a magical disaster from befalling the streets of Denerim. Kael was slightly thankful for that, and had managed to get out of the city before his temper caused a slight tear in the Veil.

And here he was, standing on one of the cold, pale beaches on Ferelden's northern shore. It was a rocky place, much like the Free Marches' southern coastline, albeit much flatter. And just like the rest of Ferelden there was a thick forest behind it, much like the ones he had wandered through during his youth, when he was nothing but a da'len.

He snapped out of his thoughts. Before he went anywhere he needed to have a plan. Food and water would be a small problem, but not too great of one. Magic could solve most bodily needs, after all, and he would rather plan a route that would take him to see his old friends and allies. It couldn't have been more than eight years or so, even if he hadn't paid attention to the passing of time during his travels.

Kael then realized that he was missing an important trove of information. He honestly had no idea where in the Creators' names his old friends were. There were a few he could reasonably assume the location of, however. Alistair would still be on his hated throne with his oh-so loving wife, Anora. The problem was he simply didn't care what happened to the traitor anymore. If he went back to Denerim it would more likely be to see Anora or visit his own grave.

Loghain could be in any number of places, although he could just be dead. Perhaps one of his old companions knew more, although he didn't want to actually reveal himself to them. Considering that he was technically dead, he thought it would be better to break into one of the Grey Warden compounds to find the information he needed on the old general.

Kael had found Leliana a few years back in Kirkwall when he had been watching that strange human fight the qunari. The Dalish had made sure none of them were Sten, of course. Letting his old companion die would have been a terrible way to repay him. He had been somewhat surprised that the former bard had gone back to the Chantry, although he should have seen it coming. After that he had lost track of her.

Oghren would inevitably be found in a bar somewhere getting as drunk as he could, although he might be dead from the alcohol poisoning by now. It wouldn't be a surprise to find the dwarf had died, considering that he had been thinking of returning to Orzammar to fight darkspawn again.

Sten was far out of his reach, so it wasn't worth bothering over the qunari. He had no desire to return to the steamy jungles of Seheron again. Kael hadn't even known it was possible to be that humid, which only added to the oppressive heat that pervaded that torturous land.

Even if he wanted to find Wynne, he doubted the old mage was alive. He had been able to feel the spirit loosening its grip on her even as the Blight had been coming to an end, and doubted the spirit would have been able to keep its host alive for more than a year after he'd originally left Ferelden. If she had managed to stay alive all these years then he would be extremely impressed.

But for now he should just find somewhere to stay. It would take a day or so for him to chart out his route, and it looked like it would be raining soon anyways. He believed that he had seen a crossroads that could lead him to a small village a few miles back, and if worst came to worst he could survive in the cramped confines of Denerim for a night or two.

Kael sighed as he looked out to the stormy sea and turned back. There was nothing for him here.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He ended up back in Denerim. There were no villages close enough for him to reach before nightfall, and although he didn't particularly need sleep, he tried to keep hold of as many of his former habits as he could. It was a slight comfort, but one that helped him to preserve the experiences that he had encountered over the years.

Kael had taken his physical form – he still didn't know why he had that, since his true body had died during the battle of Denerim – before he had reached the gates. The guards hadn't bothered him, seeing nothing but a ragged elf in a torn cloak, and ushered him in. A few of the shemlin had spat slurs at him, but he hadn't been bothered that much.

There was some strange comfort in knowing the fact that he could tear them apart with ease should he so desire. It was almost therapeutic when it came to the more trying shemlin.

The elf had managed to find a place to stay for the night in the Alienage. He had been amazed when he had first seen the place, it had improved quite a bit from being the burned wreck he had seen it as last. Now it was a somewhat decent place to live. By no means good, there were still the obvious signs of crime and poverty, but much better than either of the times he had seen it before.

One of the elves – he thought her name was Shianni, and he remembered that she had been one of the elves that had fought back against the darkspawn – that had become one of the community's leaders had allowed him to stay in a small home. Kael noticed that she seemed rather haggard, but didn't think anything of it. He got a place to stay, after all.

Compared to the places he had been staying the previous few weeks, it was decent. He couldn't hear the rats skittering in the corners at least, and the bed was sturdy enough.

Kael had to force himself to sleep, although he abandoned the coarse sheets. He didn't need nearly as much sleep as he once had, and it wasn't much of a natural feeling anymore. Urthemiel's whispers eventually did it, the magic inherent in every word lulling him into unconsciousness.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

His eyes snapped open, a slight hint of gold flashing into them before it vanished. He casually sat up, waiting for whatever had disturbed him to make an appearance. Urthemiel appeared next to him, more than an illusion or figment of his imagination but less than a true body. At least to anyone but him.

"Do you sense anyone?" He whispered. Her unnaturally beautiful face frowned in concentration for a moment before she answered.

"Templars," she said with obvious distaste. "But I doubt they're here for us. You haven't used magic yet, and you are actually able to control how much you bleed of now. Even if they aren't here for you, I suggest you be careful."

"Of course," Kael smirked. He was always careful.

He was tense as he waited for the templars to pass by. Urthemiel would tell him the second they were safe, and then he would finally be able to go back to sleep. It had been a long time since he had, and he'd forgotten how pleasant dreams could be when demons weren't clawing at his consciousness.

When Urthemiel told him that they had left the area around the shack, he was quite happy that he wouldn't have to tear the templars apart. It would have been quite a mess, and it might draw another crackdown on the Alienage.

But then he silently wondered what the templars had been doing here. He and his companions had aided the old templar in purging the Alienage of demonic influence, and he did not think that they would be anxious to return. The demon he had cast back into the Fade had felt the forces warring within him, and wouldn't want to encounter him again.

With a sigh Kael picked up Starfang – he had taken the magnificent blade from his own dead hands after the funeral – and stood up. He could sleep later, and he didn't trust in the templars' ability to properly deal with a magical threat. If it was a demon he would tear it apart, and if it was a mage child being hunted he would see if the templars were treating them properly.

It was still very dark when he left the shack. The stars were bright, although many were hidden by clouds. Only a few lanterns lit the shabby streets, and Kael was sure that there were thieves and criminals lurking about somewhere in the Alienage.

Urthemiel followed, moving lithely behind him. He couldn't hear her as they walked through the dirty roads, but he could feel her. She was like a beacon of light in the darkness, and even the mortals he interacted with could feel her presence. It wasn't good for stealth, but they rarely needed stealth anymore.

He found the templars relatively quickly – they were the only people willing to carry light sources. It was a death sentence for elves to be found after dark when all the criminals were about.

Unfortunately, he thought as he watched from the shadows, he didn't know what they were doing. They seemed to be making a plan of some sort, but they weren't actually saying anything and he couldn't hear the familiar crackle of paper being touched.

Kael snuck closer, although he continued to stay in the shadows. Templars had been jumpier than usual during the past year or so. They never knew if rogue magi were waiting in ambush, so they tended to smite or stab anything that got in their way during missions.

Now that he was actually curious, he followed them as they surrounded one of the shabby homes. They moved surprisingly efficiently and with much more stealth than they should have been able to, given their heavy armor.

As they snuck into the house, Kael drew even nearer. He slipped past the lone sentry, paralyzing him silently as he did so, and looked in through the window. The templars were being disturbingly rough with the terrified elves inside, and had gone as far to bind them with magic resistant rope as they ransacked the house.

They were obviously searching for something – or someone – but so far didn't seem to be successful. He could sense Urthemiel searching through his eyes for anything he'd missed, but she was frustrated when she was unable to turn anything up.

After a minute or so, a templar turned something up. He had lifted up a thin, shabby rug and found some sort of latch. Kael was beginning to believe that the family had been hiding a mage. What disturbed him was the Chantry's overreach of their authority. They were allowed to take mages, but never to break into homes.

Then again, he had no idea how the templars tended to treat elves. This could be the norm for them. Either way, he thought as he watched one of the lightly armored templars drop into the hidden trap door, short dagger held tightly in his grip.

A few moments later he heard a scuffle and a few flashes of light. Just a few seconds after that he heard groans of pain and a heavy crash.

The templar that had previously gone in came out carrying an unconscious elf. He was wiry, and looked like he'd taken a few punches to the face. He also smelled of blood and death. Kael glanced at the templar's glove and saw a bit of fresh blood on it. Perhaps his thoughts had been more accurate than he'd thought.

Kael watched in interest as the elf was bound and gagged. Another templar entered the hidden area and emerged with a staff. He could feel the pungent aura of blood magic rolling off of it in noxious waves. Barely repressing a gag, he prepared to snap that abomination of an artifact himself if the templars didn't.

He grinned as one of them looked at it in disgust before cutting it in half with their sword. Kael could hear a piercing scream rippling throughout the Fade before it was abruptly silenced.

It was times like these when he felt a sense of kinship with the templars. They were interfering, judgmental fools most of the time, but in the end they still managed to do some good work.

Of course, they always had to ruin it.

Kael watched dispassionately as the blood mage, who had woken up and started squirming in panic, was killed by the same templar that had dragged him out of his hiding place. With a single motion the templar cut the elf's throat from ear to ear, staining the dirty wooden floors a vibrant red.

He would have been more than happy to have left them alone after that. They had removed a blood mage from the world, and a powerful one at that, should his staff's power be considered.

Then he and Urthemiel heard the templars begin to speak. The one that had just killed the blood mage spoke first, whispering to one of the taller ones.

"Sir, should we execute the family as well? They might have been mind controlled, but they have still been touched by blood magic. The mage might have corrupted them and made them susceptible to demons in the future."

Kael's fists clenched as he heard those words, and he silently awaited the other templar's decision. Their fate rested upon it.

The taller templar seemed to think for a moment. Kael wished that they didn't have helmets that covered their entire face; it made it hard to read them. He finally responded.

"Put them down. We don't need potential abominations running around the Alienage."

Those words sealed their fate. Kael finally acted, unwilling to see a family executed for idiocy on the templars' part. He knew that mind controlled victims didn't have a higher chance of attracting demons. Only possessed beings were at higher risk, since their natural defenses were torn apart by the demon's departure. Mind control only seized control of the mind, covering up the mind's defenses with the caster's own influence.

He silently vaulted into the room, hiding in the shadows. As the lightly armored templar moved closer to the fearfully squirming elves, he waved his hand. Kael smiled in triumph as every templar froze in place.

The elf stepped out of the shadows, seemingly appearing out nowhere. He wished that he had brought something more imposing than his travelling clothes, but it was too late now. The terror in the templars' eyes brought warmth to his heart, and his grin grew larger.

"Hello, templars." He said jovially. "Might I ask why you are about to execute an innocent family? You know as well as I do that they aren't at a great risk for demonic possession."

The tall templar managed to break part of the spell, and actually responded to the question. Kael was impressed with his willpower. "They are a potential threat to the inhabitants of this Alienage. Now release us at once, and we will not have you made Tranquil."

Kael chuckled. "That would have no effect upon me. Now, let us return to the important matters. You have attempted to murder innocents, something that is well outside the Chantry's power. Do you know what the punishment for murder is?"

None of the templars said a word, although Kael could tell they were warily eying the homicidal glint in his eyes. Torchlight was great for terrifying enemies.

"You see," Kael continued, "I was having the first good sleep I had for a long while. You woke me up. And then, in innocent curiousity, I follow you here. For awhile I even silently cheered you on – I despise the average blood mage, after all – but you had to take it just a bit too far."

"Now," he scowled, "if you don't give me a damn good reason as to why you even tied the elves up, let alone attempt to execute them, then I will tear out your hearts and paint the Chantry walls with your entrails."

Once he finished, one of the templars had an epiphany. "We have a right to do so," he stammered frantically, "King Alistair gave the Grand Cleric the power!"

Kael's eyes hardened. Purple and gold flames seemed to flicker behind his retinas before reverting to normal.

"He did?" Kael smirked. "I suppose I'll have to have a little chat with our beloved monarch. But I suppose I should let you go first."

With a flick of his wrist each of the mage hunters were released from the spell. They collapsed to the ground before several got up and stumbled towards him, raising their swords and preparing to smite him.

Another flick of his wrist snapped all of the templars' necks. Urthemiel smirked alongside Kael.

"Oops," said the elf whimsically, "I suppose I made a mess. Let me clean it up."

Thin streams of white flame erupted from each of his fingers, melting the bodies until nothing remained. Their armor was left empty, the runes keeping it relatively protected against the magical flame.

Kael wasn't sure what to do with those, so he threw them into the hidden area alongside the blood mage's corpse. He then approached the elves, who looked at him in terror.

"I suppose I should have been more restrained. Now they're terrified of me."

"Don't worry," said Urthemiel, resting a hand on his shoulder, "they don't need to remember anything."

"No," Kael whispered slowly, "they don't."

He laid a hand on each of the horrified elves' foreheads, and wiped out the last day from their memory. It was hardly an exact science, and he couldn't wipe out anything less. Of course, they had been under mind control before that so it was likely their memories would be disturbed anyways.

"Well, my dear friend," Kael said, "I think it's time to reunite with Alistair."

Urthemiel just smiled and followed him as he leapt out of the window, taking care to finish off the templar guard and dispose of him. Shadows bent around their lithe forms as they travelled outside of the Alienage and into the districts separating him from Alistair. On the way, Kael hid Starfang. The bright blade was terrible for stealth.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was simple to infiltrate the palace. Even the da'len of his old tribe would be able to slip past the lazy guards. Perhaps he would tell Anora that the guards needed to be replaced. Some were even dozing off on the job.

At least their astounding degree of incompetence made his job easier. It didn't take long for him to enter the palace itself, and then it was a simple matter of asking Urthemiel to find their minds.

They were in the very back of the palace, in a fortified position. Kael supposed that it was a mix of Alistair's training kicking in and his dislike of decadence and ceremony. The area was rather drab compared to the rest of the palace, although they were still resplendent.

A wide grin was on Kael's face as he put the small trio of guards outside the monarchs' door asleep. They had a surprising degree of willpower, and even managed to resist the spell for a few moments, but they eventually collapsed to the ground.

The Dalish elf searched their pockets, and his grin grew even wider as he found the small, ornate key that would give him entrance. He quietly slipped it into the lock and twisted. A small creak of the door opening was his answer.

He pushed the door open as quietly as he could, although it still produced an irritatingly high pitched sound. Fortunately it didn't seem to wake the couple in the large bed. The elf idly noted that they were sleeping rather far apart from each other. It seems that they hadn't become particularly close over their years of marriage.

Now it was time to go through with his plan. A wave of his hand ensured that Anora would stay asleep for the time being, and another wave paralyzed Alistair. He silently chuckled at how easy this was. For all the trouble he had he might as well have just been walking into a bar.

Alistair, thanks to his templar training, had awoken the moment the magic affected him. Kael, still hidden from the Warden-King's eyes, quietly shut the door and locked it before walking up to the paralyzed man.

He lit one of the lanterns in the room before turning back to the frozen king. Alistair's eyes widened in shock as he saw Kael's face, and his invisible struggle to free himself ceased.

"Ah, hello." Kael nonchalantly waved his hand again, unfreezing Alistair's head. "I suggest you don't call for help. If you do, then you might have an _accident_. Even though I'm sure most of the nobles will be thrilled with Anora being Ferelden's sole ruler, there would be a few that would be heartbroken over your loss."

The former Warden glared at Kael, but didn't try to get help.

"Now," the elf hissed, a stark distinction from his previous affable manner, "I have a few questions about the Chantry."

"The Chantry?" Alistair asked, dumbfounded. "What about them?"

Kael glared at him. "I want to know why you gave them the authority to kill innocents should they be harboring apostates."

"Oh," he said, slightly nervous, "that? How long have you been in Ferelden?"

"A day or so."

"Then you have no idea how bad the mage epidemic has become," continued Alistair. "I had been trying to keep them safe and limit the Chantry's power just a year ago. But I bet you don't realize how that drew the worst of the lot here, and as a result we're hearing about mass mind control and atrocities every day. I'm just trying to stop this, and the Chantry and their templars are the only chance I have."

The elf frowned. "I believe that I understand. Perhaps I overreacted."

Alistair took advantage of the moment.

"Now that I've answered your question, how about you answer mine?" The king growled. "You died. I know you didn't take that ritual Morrigan offered, and I saw your corpse after you slew the Archdemon. Where have you been and how did you survive?"

Kael frowned again. He felt Urthemiel's shudder of revulsion, and reached out with his mind to comfort her. She still hated the abomination the darkspawn had made her into.

"I have been travelling."

The king's right eye twitched in annoyance. "How did you survive killing the Archdemon?" He repeated.

"That's none of your concern," Kael said before he sat down on one of the luxurious chairs next to the bed. "But I will be happy to tell you of some of my travels. I'm sure being a king has you starved for adventure. "

"Shut up," growled Alistair, "and your survival is my concern. How do I know you aren't possessed? You always felt like there was something wrong with you, and for all I know I'm talking to a demon inhabiting Kael Mahariel's corpse. You could even be the Archdemon."

The Dalish leaned back in his chair and pressed his hands together, trying to ignore his best friend's revived revulsion at the mention of the Archdemon. "I can assure you that I am Kael Mahariel, and I survived through means that do not matter to you. But on to the more important things. Did you know that Orlais is lovely this kind of year?"

Alistair growled again. "Fine. If you won't tell me how you survived, I suppose I could just have you arrested. Did you know the dungeons are terrible this time of year?"

His eyes narrowed, all humor leaving his form. Perhaps it was time to return to business.

"You've seen me fight, traitor. All of the guards in this city wouldn't have been enough to stop me back during the Blight, and I am much more powerful now. Some of us didn't spend the years getting lazy and weak."

Surprisingly enough, Alistair didn't object to the description of him as a traitor. Instead he replied in a defeated tone.

"Fine. I'm sure you've had to put down a few guards to get here anyways. But let's return back to business, shall we? And release me from this spell."

Kael rolled his eyes and did so. The former Warden stretched, although his movements were still jerky. When he felt relatively normal again, Alistair continued speaking. His tone was more official now, likely the one he used during official engagements.

"You came here about the mages and their allies being executed, correct?" Alistair didn't wait for any indication of confirmation before continuing. "Well, since I assume you have nothing better to do, I want your help to put a stop to this."

"The actual war or the mages?"

"The war. Ferelden is being torn apart, and the skirmishes between the magi and templars are interfering with farming."

"Well," Kael said slowly, "I admit that you are right about my lack of occupation. And this sounds more amusing than travelling all over Thedas again. What do you want me to do?"

Alistair smiled, something Kael wasn't pleased to see. "Go to the tower. That's where most of the blood mages and radicals have gone to – I doubt it's any better than it was during the Blight by now – and most of the average magi are spread throughout the countryside. When you get to the tower, do whatever you deem necessary."

A bloodthirsty grin split Kael's face, and for a few moments golden and purple flames burned behind his eyes. Kael wrapped himself in shadow, pausing only a moment to take the sleep spell off of Anora. As he left the room, he turned and spoke one last time to Alistair.

"By the way, traitor, when I've calmed Ferelden I'm coming for you next."

"I'll be looking forward to it." An uncharacteristic smirk crossed the former Warden's face. Kael glared back before finally leaving the room.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It took several days, but he finally arrived at the village next to the tower. He was practically invisible – no one looked at a lone elf, and he easily blended in with the night – and was free to observe the legions of templars that had set up camps around Lake Calenhad. It was hard to repress the urge to tear some of their throats out when they bumped into him without apologizing, but Urthemiel helped.

She trailed behind him, looking around curiously. They'd rarely been around this many warriors, and the only time Urthemiel had before was when she was the Archdemon – and those memories were blurs of madness and hate, nearly indecipherable to a sane mind.

Kael supposed it was fortunate that she was only visible to him. If the men had seen her, the duo would be forced to kill quite a few templars. Urthemiel had been the God of Beauty back in the ancient times, and it certainly showed on her now.

He took his mind off of his companion and prepared a strategy for getting to the tower. For now he wouldn't destroy the templars, not when they were able to fight the most corrupt of the mages. At the moment he only wanted to enter the tower through stealth and discover whether Alistair's information was accurate. There was nothing forcing him to help Alistair, after all, and if there weren't blood mages and radicals in the tower he would leave and hunt the templars.

The elf waited for a few minutes next to a boat. No templars were around except for a single guard next to the tiny vessel, and that one was easily incapacitated.

It was lucky that it was a rowboat. If it were anything more complicated or anything that required a crew he would be out of luck. He hid himself in the shadows and slowly rowed out. The boat left small ripples in the cold, black water as he moved towards the great tower. He heard templars shouting, but didn't bother looking back. They wouldn't be able to hurt him even if they did manage to hit him.

After a few minutes he could barely hear the shouts, although he had looked back and saw several templar boats floating behind him, the moonlight reflecting off of their polished armor.

He scoffed and froze parts of the lake behind him. Perhaps that would get them to leave him alone. Urthemiel smiled at the act of magic and left a few thick blocks of jagged ice herself. Kael felt the slight drain on his energy from her spell, but didn't say anything. He wasn't about to ruin her fun.

Eventually the templars hit one of the temporary ice floes and turned back. They likely didn't think one mage was worth risking their lives for. As Kael floated up to a ragged pier memories engulfed him. He'd forgotten how impressive the tower was, even when it had been scarred by fire and war.

Kael slowly stepped out of the boat, weaving a shroud of darkness around him. There was no way the mages hadn't detected the boat, and he wanted to scout the tower out before unleashing his fury upon them.

He easily clambered through the ancient rubble of the broken bridge before finding the entrance to the tower. It was fortunate that he'd remembered the alternate way in. There were probably guards at the main entranceway by now.

The elf waited outside for awhile before a mage finally exited the tower. With a quick burst of speed he slipped into the tower and into one of the corners. When he was sure that none of the guards had seen him, Kael took a moment to look around.

The tower's interior was just as it had been during the Blight, albeit any sign of the templars' former dominance was replaced with the symbol of the Magi Rebellion, a crescent moon with a blood hand to the left of it. He also noticed several bloodstains on the ground, and assumed they were from the former templars of Kinloch Hold.

He slipped past the mages guarding the entrance, although he had to fight down the desire to cut their throats with Duncan's old dagger. The mages were practically oozing the feel of death and blood, just like that elf in the Alienage. A calming touch from Urthemiel's mind gave him the control he needed.

It was a good thing that there weren't too many doors in the public area of the tower. They appeared to have been removed, and it allowed him to move about quickly and freely. He waited in the library and observed the multitude of mages that flitted around the massive bookcases. A growl nearly erupted from his throat when he realized they all smelled of corruption. The metallic scent of blood wafted off of them and into the Fade.

Kael fought down his murderous urges and patiently waited for one of the mages to leave. When he saw one – a teenage human female with blonde hair and bright blue eyes – exit the library, he silently followed her until she went into an empty room.

It appeared to be some sort of storage area, as there were many crates and barrels. The elf smirked as another mage, this one male, appear from behind some of the crates. He didn't bother listening to their enthusiastic greetings, instead taking advantage of their distraction to lock the door.

When the door was locked and he'd placed a weak barrier over it to keep unwanted guests out, Kael made his move. A wave of his hand knocked the male out. He flitted over to the girl and covered her mouth before she could scream. A single touch paralyzed her as well.

The elf carefully laid her down before paralyzing the male as well. He stood above her and ignited the purple and gold flames behind his eyes. It was always nice to be terrifying before an interrogation.

"What do you want?" the girl sobbed, her watery eyes flickering over to the unconscious male.

"Calm down, girl," the elf hissed. "I don't have plans to hurt you unless you falsely answer my inquiries."

Kael withdrew Duncan's dagger and toyed with it, silently amused at the look of terror on the girl's face. When he got bored he started his questions. It was best not to prolong interrogations when in hostile territory.

"First," he asked, "are you a blood mage, or have you ever dealt with demons?"

A frantic shake of the head was her answer. He rolled his eyes. It seemed like she was being honest; there was no corruption wafting off of her. The next question would determine just how truthful she was willing to be.

"Fine, I believe you. But," he smirked, "is your lover one?"

Another frantic shake of the head. Kael sighed. He kneeled next to her and laid Duncan's dagger across her throat.

"You know that he is. There is no reason to hide anything in this tower now, considering the corruption I can feel coming off of so many of you. If you lie again," he smiled as he pressed the dagger slightly harder against her throat, drawing a thin line of blood, "I'm going to decapitate you and your little paramour."

Her eyes widened, but she nodded her acceptance. Kael withdrew the blade a little.

"How many of the mages here are radicals or blood mages? Also, are there any prisoners here?"

"Almost all of us are blood mages or revolutionaries," she choked out. "The prisoners are in the basement. They're the ones who tried to help the templars and resisted the revolution."

"Good girl," Kael said approvingly. "I'm going to leave you down here until my business is done. But first," here he glanced at the unmoving form of the male, "I have a bit of justice to disperse."

The girl struggled as Kael stood up and walked over to the male, getting his dagger ready as he knelt next to him. A wide grin was on his face as he cut the blood mage's throat, and the smile only grew wider at Urthemiel's light chuckle.

He waved the girl goodbye as he left the room, pausing only to recast the paralysis spell on her. She didn't need to die today.

The bloodthirsty grin left his face as he advanced through the halls, barely escaping the notice of some of the mages. He had to continue fighting the urge to unleash his fury upon them, and continued to be thankful for Urthemiel's calming influence.

After nearly half an hour he arrived at the First Enchanter's office. Two mages with both staves and a short sword guarded the entrance. Kael lazily waved his hand and paralyzed them. Their eyes glared at him hatefully as he strode past them.

The First Enchanter looked up with alarm in her eyes. She tried to level her staff at him before he forced his hand outwards. The old woman was paralyzed just as her guards were, and Kael lazily looked around before closing and locking the doors. He grabbed her rather gently – by his standards – by the throat and forced her onto the large desk.

She was trying to resist the spell, but he had put power into it. There was no hope for her to escape. A bit more pressure on her frail neck and she stopped. Kael grinned widely and stared into her eyes as he began the interrogation, igniting purple and gold flames behind his own.

"Hello, First Enchanter. I have some questions for you."

He unfroze her mouth, and was rather pleased when she didn't bother trying to cry out. Cooperative victims were nice.

"Well ask them," she sneered. Kael had to smile at her nerve.

"Are you a blood mage or supporting total war in Ferelden?" He could feel the corruption on her as well, so it would be foolish of the old woman to lie.

"Both!" She spat. "And if you release me I might not give you to the apprentices to play with."

Kael had to laugh at that.

"Please," he grinned, "if the First Enchanter was overwhelmed so easily why would you think I would surrender. I plan on painting these walls with the entrails of blood mages and those who spread terror throughout this land, and the threats of a shriveled old woman aren't going to change that."

A brief flash of fear went through her eyes before vanishing. He asked another question.

"How many of your mages have killed?"

"Almost all of them," she hissed again, injecting even more venom into her voice. Kael smiled at the answer. He would get to have fun now, and it wouldn't be too hard to avoid killing those that hadn't participated in blood magic.

"I thank you for your assistance, First Enchanter," he said in faux respect. A moment later he crushed her throat and threw her body away. Kael snapped the staff before beginning his search of the office.

Several interesting manuscripts turned up, including yet another of Asha'bellanar's old grimoires. Kael scanned through it, and once he'd determined that he knew most of the information in it he incinerated the grimoire. The revolutionaries didn't need to know any of that information.

He silently walked out of the room and made his way past the mages in the halls. There wouldn't be much time to prepare before they discovered that the guards were paralyzed and that their First Enchanter was dead. Every moment counted.

Kael smirked as he entered the apprentice chambers. It was so nice of them to bunk in one giant room. They were much easier to kill en masse that way.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was time. He ended up not having to kill the apprentices at all. The senior enchanters had decided to call an assembly in order to vote in the new First Enchanter, and every mage was required to go.

So of course he entered before anyone else got to the auditorium. The mages would probably be scanning everyone entering and lock up the door afterwards. He found a nice, comfortable corner that he could observe everything from. A predatory grin was on his face as the mages filed in, their ranks jumbled and awkward. They clearly weren't very disciplined.

When all of the magi had entered, one of the senior enchanters began to make a speech. Kael barely listened. It was mostly just a warning of the assassin that walked their halls, and a memorial for the fallen magi. He didn't really pay attention until the speaker began to nominate himself for the position of First Enchanter.

"—we have all lost a leader today, but we must look to the future. Our tower will not last without a strong leader, one that can hold off the templars and ensure that we continue to provide a safe haven for our brothers in the revolution.

And I believe, no, I know, that I can provide the wisdom and strength that we need to survive! Allow me to –"

Kael kindly interrupted his speech with a brilliant arc of chain lightning. It tore into the speaker before branching off into the other senior enchanters, who actually managed to let out screams before it killed them.

In a brazen display of arrogance, Kael walked up to the podium and kicked the former speaker's corpse out of the way. None of the magi attacked; something that made him sneer in disgust. It was a wonder they had revolted if they didn't even try to strike down someone who had just assassinated their leaders.

Nevertheless, he cleared his throat before addressing the crowd.

"Hail, magi. As I'm sure you have divined, your illustrious leaders have been slain by my hand. In the olden days, that would give me the right to rule over you." He critically eyed the nervous mages. "Not that I have any particular desire to rule over any of you. Nothing is worth putting up with you fools."

One of the rats managed to speak up.

"What are you going to do us?" He questioned. Kael looked him over. The mage was an average elf, possessing of a slim build and the features he had grown used to over his life.

"What am I going to do to you?" Kael questioned, tapping his chin with a finger. He suddenly brightened. "Here's what I'm going to do to you!"

The mages watched in horror as a bolt of lightning shot from his outstretched finger, impacting the elf's chest. Kael smirked cruelly as the mage twitched and jerked in agony before finally dying. It grew wider as Urthemiel chuckled along with him.

It was pathetic that none of the mages had the guts to attack him. He was getting bored as well; it seemed prudent to wrap his business up here. Alistair would probably have something else for him to do later anyways.

"Magi," he roared, watching in amusement as their attention snapped from the gently smoking body to him, "I suggest those of you that aren't blood mages or radicals kill the nearest blood mage. If you don't, I'm going to carve your heart out and feed it to a mabari."

For a moment there was nothing but silence. A few arcs of electricity crackled around his fingertips before the room exploded into chaos. Magi turned against magi, brilliant streaks of flame and ice erupting from their hands and staves.

Some of them were pragmatic enough to attack him instead, but he merely ducked behind the stone podium and allowed their brothers and sisters to put them down for him.

His bloodthirsty grin returned as he stood back up and looked over the destroyed room. Few mages were still alive, as most had been too frantic over their own survival to worry about collateral damage. Kael leapt off the platform before moving over to the gently moaning bodies.

If he could feel the demonic corruption from them or smell the scent of blood, he put them out of their misery with a dagger to the throat. Should they be relatively innocent of anything but being idiots, he healed them enough for them to be stable and knocked them out. The templars would deal with them soon enough.

He whistled a tune from his childhood as he left the room and stepped down the stone stairs. This little outing had been quite fun, but he could feel the remnants of the demons that tended to sprout up whenever he was in combat draining away.

The grin vanished, replaced with dour determination. He paused on the way out to release the blonde haired girl he'd received his information from, although he took care to dodge the sobbing girl's burst of fire she attacked him with. A tap on the head with the pommel of his dagger put her out of commission and left him free to leave.

Kael felt the biting cold of Lake Calenhad as he opened up the doors to daylight, and he quickly found his boat and set sail for shore. This war seemed fun, and calming the fires of conflict in Ferelden would be a worthy task for now.

As he set off for Denerim yet again, Kael wondered what the future would have in store for him.


End file.
